


our permanent address

by shellybelle



Series: you asked me to be an open book [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (perceived), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Derek Nurse's Emo Poetic Soul, Emotionally Stupid College Boys, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9682487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellybelle/pseuds/shellybelle
Summary: He’s not usually a procrastinator, is the thing. He’s not sure what makes this different, why he doesn’t just tell Dex the truth and get it over with.After all, he thinks that he’d want to know ifhisfriend-with-benefits, sometimes-hatesex fuckbuddy had fallen stupid in love withhim.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Nursey Week](http://nurseyweek.tumblr.com), Day 5: “Tomorrow.”

 

_“tomorrow is our permanent address_

_and there they’ll scarcely find us (if they do,_

_we’ll move away still further: into now”_

\- e.e. cummings, all ignorance toboggans into know

 

 

 

Nursey knows he needs to tell Dex the truth.

 

Not because he feels obligated, exactly. His moms brought him up believing that his heart and mind were sacred spaces. “Tu refugio, ¿no?” his mama would murmur, on the days he’d come from school home frustrated and trembling with too many feelings, held in close all day. She would press a notebook into his hands and a kiss to his forehead, to his chest. “Haz algo que te ayude, quapito.” 

 

He’d take the thoughts and feelings from his heart to the page, and if they never needed to touch his lips, so much the better. He shared things with his moms, sometimes; with his sister, more often. Most often, with no one at all. It’s easier that way. Keeps him out of trouble.

 

But this feels important.

 

He thinks that he’d want to know if _his_ friend-with-benefits, sometimes-hatesex fuckbuddy had fallen stupid in love with _him_.

 

“Hey,” Dex says, his voice hot against Nursey’s skin. “Is your neck still sore from that Yale game?”

 

Nursey shivers himself back to the present. “Huh?” He flexes his hands at the waistband of Dex’s jeans, and Dex scrapes his teeth against the stubble on his jaw. “I--fuck. No, it’s not. Why?”

 

“No reason,” Dex says dryly. He curves a hand around Nursey’s chin, then uses his grip to turn Nursey’s head firmly, exposing the line of his neck and setting his mouth against it, all hot, wet lips and tongue on the spot that never fails to turn Nursey’s knees to liquid.

 

He goes a little weak-legged now. He closes his eyes. “Right,” he says. “No reason at all.”

 

Dex chuckles, low. 

 

Nursey tightens his grip on Dex’s hips. 

 

He’ll tell him, he promises himself, tomorrow.

 

…

 

He doesn’t tell him.

 

He closes Dex’s door with his foot and walks him backwards, feels Dex’s huff of laughter against his mouth. “Fuckin’ eager, Nurse?”

 

“IDK, Poindexter, were you playing footsie with my fucking dick at team dinner?” Nursey gets the first two buttons of Dex’s flannel open and tugs it aside, bites the last two words into Dex’s collarbone. 

 

Dex snorts. “I guess I should be glad you let me wait long enough to put my fuckin’ shoe back on.”

 

“Should’ve made you fuckin’ leave it.” Nursey finishes the last of the buttons and pushes the shirt off Dex’s shoulders, then pushes him onto the bed. Dex lands with a rough exhale and a laugh, sitting up to reach for Nursey’s belt. Nursey pulls his shirt over his head, stepping out of his shoes as Dex gets his belt undone and shoves his jeans off his hips. “Would’ve served you right.”

 

He pushes Dex back onto the sheets, and gets gets another laugh as he kicks his jeans and underwear off and sits down. With practiced timing, he pulls Dex’s shoes and socks off, just as Dex pushes his pants and boxers into his hands. 

 

This is how they work now. Seamless, perfect. It used to just be on the ice, this easy symmetry. He doesn’t even remember when it left the ice, started bleeding into everything else.

 

Dex tugs at him, a firm hand curved over the back of his neck, and Nursey goes--immediate, unquestioning, aching. “Now who’s eager,” he teases, draping himself over Dex’s chest, settling his hips between Dex’s legs.

 

“Fucking right,” Dex says roughly. “Think I would’ve fingered myself open in the shower after the game if I wasn’t?”

 

Nursey’s hand slips on Dex’s sheet, and he manages to catch himself on his forearm without elbowing Dex in the eye. “What the _fuck_ ,” he says. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  
Dex gives him an extremely unimpressed look and lifts one eyebrow, lip curling. Nursey narrows his eyes and runs a hand down between them, slips it lower. The slip in is slick and easy, he doesn’t even have to push, and Dex licks his lower lip, those honey-brown eyes bright. Nursey wants to kiss him till they darken to a whiskeyed gold, wants to drink in the color til he’s drunk on it. “Shit,” he says. “Fuck, c’mere.”

 

He climbs off Dex’s hips and nudges him til he sits up, then rolls onto his back, pulling Dex to straddle him. “Like this,” he says. “Just like this.”

 

“Yeah,” Dex agrees, the flush on his chest spreading lower. He fishes in his desk drawer for a condom, rolls it down over Nursey with parted lips and a firm hand. A last slick of lube and a flash of his grin and he’s sinking down onto Nursey’s cock with a low groan, head tipped back, the curve of his throat exposed.

 

He’s beautiful, and Nursey wants to stare at him forever. 

 

Instead, he wraps an arm around Dex’s waist to hold him in place and sits up, dragging Dex’s hips against his and pulling Dex back into his lap. It shoves him deeper and gets him a guttural gasp from Dex, a scramble of nails against his back. “Fuck,” Dex hisses, and drops his forehead down into the crook of Derek’s neck and shoulder, already shaking, damp with sweat. “Nursey, fuck me, _fuck_.”

 

Fuck if Nursey doesn’t want to give him everything he wants.

 

He’ll tell him, he promises himself, adjusting the sprawl of his legs for better leverage, tomorrow.

 

…

 

He doesn’t tell him.

 

He lets Dex drag him upstairs at the next kegster, his grip branded heat around Nursey’s wrist. The music is so loud Nursey can feel it through the floor, heavy bass so deep it seems like the Haus is vibrating with it--or maybe that’s his own pulse throbbing in his veins.

 

Dex pushes him into the hall bathroom and locks the door behind them, turning them until he can shove Nursey up against it. Nursey exhales hard as his back hits the wood a little harder than Dex probably intended, but then, knowing Dex, it’s hard to tell. “Fuck,” he says. “A little warning?”

 

“Where’s the fun in that,” Dex says. He cups Nursey’s face and leans in, kissing him deep and wet and sloppy. Nursey wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer, kissing back. He tastes like tub juice and beer. Intoxicating. Nursey’s head spins, and not from the shots he’s taken tonight. 

 

Dex’s teeth sink into his lip, then, hard enough that Nursey tastes copper, and he yelps, pulling away. “Ouch!” He runs his tongue over the salty place on the inside of his lip. Dex has a tendency to get rough, but not usually that rough. “What the fuck, dude?”

 

“Who was that guy,” Dex says. He’s already dropped down, pressing the words against Nursey’s neck. 

 

Nursey tilts his head, gives Dex more room. “What guy?”

 

Dex huffs. “The one you were dancing with.”

 

“I don’t know.” Dex makes a sound that borders dangerously on a growl and drags his mouth lower along Nursey’s throat, all teeth. He’s going to leave marks. Nursey’s wearing a tank top tonight--he’s not getting out of here without getting chirped to shit. “Just a guy.” He slips his hands under Dex’s shirt. “You were doing your wallflower routine. I wanted to dance.”

 

“He had his hands all over you.” 

 

There’s a possessive edge to Dex’s voice, and it sends a wicked thrill dancing along Nursey’s nerves. “And?”

 

Dex bites him again, hard enough that Nursey has to clamp his lips shut to keep from crying out, and yeah, that’s _definitely_ going to leave a mark, like Dex is staking a claim. And that’s not--usual. It goes against the rules of this _thing_ they have.

 

Not that there are _rules_ , really, beyond _keep it casual_ , beyond _just friends, y’know?_ , beyond _we should blow off some steam, when shit gets stressful_. Beyond the rules that Nursey’s already broken. It makes him shudder anyway. “And?” he says again, pushing. “What? You saying I can’t dance now?”

 

“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” Dex says, and drops to his knees, makes quick work of Nursey’s belt. Just like that, Nursey’s hard, sucking in a quick, sharp breath. “But you'll do it when I’m done with you.”

 

“Fuck, Will.”

 

He hates saying his name--is always afraid he’ll give himself away. But Dex pulls his zipper down and pulls his boxer briefs aside, and Nursey only has half a second to suck in a breath before Dex sucks the head of his dick into his mouth. “Shit,” he says, and pushes his hands into Dex’s hair. 

 

Dex makes a sound around him that might be a laugh, digs his hands into the flesh of Nursey’s hips so hard he knows he’ll have bruises tomorrow. 

 

Something inside him thrills at the idea of that, of Dex’s fingertips etched into his skin, and he bites his lip again to keep from pleading. Dex had been a little sloppy at this when they started, but he's gotten so, so good, and _God,_ Nursey never wants him to stop. He touches Dex’s cheekbone with shaking fingers, and Dex looks up at him through his eyelashes, drags his tongue along the underside of Nursey’s dick.

 

“Shit,” Nursey says again, shakily. Dex pulls off him, and sucks a mark into the sensitive skin of his hipbone. Nursey digs his fingers into Dex’s hair. “Jesus,” he groans. “You trying to make some kind of point?”

 

Dex laughs, a hot rush of air over his wet skin, and Nursey shudders, his dick twitching in Dex’s fist. “Got a problem with that?”

 

No, Nursey wants to say. No. Mark me up, let me feel your hands on me after you’re gone, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours. 

 

“Nah,” he says. Easy, lazy, casual. Tips up a corner of his mouth in a grin like it’s nothing. “Do what you want, babe.”

 

Dex smirks up at him. He strokes his hand over Nursey’s cock, sliding easy through spit and pre-cum, and then slides his mouth down again. Nursey groans.

 

He’ll tell him, he promises himself, leaning back against the door, tomorrow.

 

 

…

 

He doesn’t tell him.

 

He spreads Dex out on his back on his bed, all long, lanky limbs. His bare skin seems to glow against the dark blue of Nursey’s sheets, and Nursey traces his fingertips over his sides, follows the path of his fingers with his lips, watches Dex’s pale skin ripple into goosebumps.

 

“Nursey,” Dex says, a little breathless. “You’re fucking teasing.”

 

“Got somewhere to be?” Nursey sucks a patch of skin at the base of Dex’s pec into his mouth and bites. 

 

Dex hisses. He digs his fingers into Nursey’s shoulder blade and starts to move them up, then stops at the nape of his neck. “Wanna put my hands in your hair,” he says roughly. “That cool?”

 

Something clenches in Nursey’s chest, a sweet sense of being _heard_ that hums through him so deep it prickles into the corners of his eyes. “Yeah.” 

 

Long fingers thread into the longer curls on the top of his head and then push at his head. Not enough to hurt his neck, but a firm _down_. Nursey gets the hint and snorts a laugh against Dex’s chest, dropping wet kisses down over Dex’s abs as he makes his way down to his dick. He licks the head once, just to clean off the precum that’s gathered there and to hear Dex’s soft moan, the stroke of his fingers against his scalp. 

 

And then he dips lower, shoving one of Dex’s legs over his shoulder, then the other. Dex makes a startled sound.

 

“Nursey,” he says. The word comes out a little surprised, especially when Nursey licks a line down below his balls, his hands dipping between Dex’s cheeks to spread him open. “Nursey, I-- _fuck_.” 

 

Nursey slides his tongue over Dex’s hole and then lifts his head. “You don’t want it?”

 

Dex’s lips part, and he traces his tongue over the bottom one. Nursey wants to catch it in his, feel it get red and swollen between his teeth. “I’m not, uh,” Dex says, because they don’t do this often, and Dex always falls apart when they do, turns needy and desperate in all the ways he usually doesn’t, even when Nursey’s fucking him into the mattress. “Like, I didn’t plan for--”

  
Nursey bites him, high on his thigh, and Dex’s groan is _music_. “I don’t care,” he says, and he _doesn’t_ , which thrills through him in a guilty, dirty sort of way, like he _should_ care, like he’s being reckless. “You want it, or not?”

 

Dex lips his lips again. His throat works as he swallows. “I want it.”

 

_That_ is music. Nursey closes his eyes, exhales a soft moan against Dex’s inner thigh. “Turn for me.” Dex rolls over onto his hands and knees and Nursey slides up, runs his hands over Dex’s hips, spreads Dex’s legs wider. 

 

Just to hear Dex moan, he scrapes the stubble on his cheek over the sensitive skin at the back of his balls before he leans in to lick him open. Dex groans, long and loud, and Nursey feels the shudder that goes through his body, feels his stance change as he reaches for a pillow, pulls it closer and buries his face in it. 

 

Nursey laughs, half-drunk off the tremors and clenches around his tongue, in the sour-sweet taste of him, and Dex groans again. Nursey hears the sound of his own name muffled in the pillow. He presses deeper.

 

Dex shoves the pillow away, reaches back to grab Nursey’s hair again. “Fuck,” he says, rough and desperate. “Fuck, Derek, babe, baby baby, _please_ \--”

 

Like I could ever make you beg, Nursey thinks. He closes his eyes, spreads Dex wider with his thumbs, uses his lips and tongue to trace _I love you, I love you, I love you_ into Dex’s hole. 

 

He’ll tell him, he promises himself, committing every one of Dex’s whimpering gasps to memory, tomorrow. 

 

…

 

He doesn’t tell him.

 

He falls back onto Dex’s bed, Dex’s hand curled around the back of his head to keep him from hitting the headboard. “Gotcha,” Dex says, breathless, grinning. “You clumsy motherfucker.”

 

It’s teasing and fond, and Nursey laughs, a little tipsy. He slings his arms around Dex’s neck, his legs around his waist, tugs him down on top of him, Dex’s bare chest against his, warm and flushed. “Did it on purpose,” he lies, just to see Dex snort out a laugh, resettling his weight between Nursey’s legs. “Got you right where I want you.”

 

“Do you,” Dex says. Not a question, really. He grinds his hips down, and Nursey arches up with a pleased groan. _Hamdullah_ , Dex has ditched the baggier jeans he wore at the beginning of the year, and the tighter cuts he wears now make the jut of his erection obvious and warm. Nursey rolls up against it, and gets a rough laugh against his jaw. “I think you’re full of shit.”

 

“Not full of anything,” Nursey says. And then, because he’s shameless, he says, “Could be, though,” and winks.

 

Dex’s laugh sounds almost startled, and he lifts his head from Nursey’s neck, his eyes dancing. “You are so fucking ridiculous.”

 

Nursey grins. “You love it,” he says. _You love me_ , he doesn’t say, because Dex doesn’t. That’s not what this is. _Casual._ He tilts his hips up again, rocks the line of his cock against Dex’s. “C’mon.”

 

“Ridiculous,” Dex repeats, but he’s grinning. He leans down to seal his mouth over Nursey’s, and his hands slide down, unfastening Nursey’s jeans. “Up,” he says against Nursey’s mouth, and Nursey lifts his hips so that Dex can lean back and pull his jeans and underwear off. They’d both abandoned their shoes to the mess of Dex’s room when they’d stumbled in from the party. 

 

His hands are hot on Nursey’s skin, and he closes his eyes, tilting his head back as Dex traces his fingers over his sides, then dips them along his inner thighs. He breathes, tries to just feel, to commit the sensation to memory. He wonders if he can write this into a poem. He doesn’t think a word for this exists in English, the way Dex makes him feel, and he racks his brain to wonder if it exists in any of the other languages he knows. 

 

_L’appel du vide_ , he thinks, a little wildly, suppressing the urge to shudder a laugh. This is what Dex does to him, makes him want to fling himself into the unknown, despite the terror of it. 

 

The snap of Dex’s fingers in front of his face calls him back to his body, and he opens his eyes. “Mm?”

 

“Lube,” Dex says, his eyes amused, lips curved in a soft smile. “If you don’t mind.”

 

“I don’t,” Nursey says. He reaches back for Dex’s desk drawer, feels around for the bottle and hands it to him. He grabs a condom, too, and just keeps it in his hand, fingers it idly. 

 

Dex snorts. “You never do,” he says. He flips the cap and slicks his fingers, dipping them down. Nursey bites his lip, but Dex is gentle as he strokes over him, circling his rim until he’s whining before he chuckles and pushes a finger into him. 

 

From there it’s all hot, slick stretching, Dex’s fingers working him open with a teasing slowness while Nursey swears at him, one hand threaded through Dex’s hair, the other tight on his shoulder. Dex’s eyes are dark and focused, his smile wicked; Nursey’s heart is throbbing in his chest.

 

“Condom,” Dex says, _fucking finally_ , pulling his fingers free, and Nursey sits up enough to roll it on for him. He shudders at the touch of Nursey’s hand on him, and touches Nursey’s cheek with his clean hand, the barest brush of his fingertips, feather-light, tender. 

 

Nursey looks at him, and finds his eyes soft. “Lie back for me,” Dex says. He’s quiet, suddenly. Gentle. Nursey lays back down, and Dex follows him, bending over him to kiss him. Nursey sighs into the kiss. Feels the press of Dex’s cock against him, and tilts his hips up to meet him. 

 

“God,” Dex murmurs, and presses in, a long, slow, easy slide. Nursey trembles through it, shaking like a leaf in a windstorm by the time Dex stops moving and just kisses him, deep and long, like he’s searching for something. 

 

Nursey tucks his arms under Dex’s, curls his hands around his shoulders, rocks up, an unspoken _please_. Dex gets the hint, starts up a slow, steady pace. The angle is good, is _so_ fucking good. Nursey shudders, breaks away from the kiss, and pushes his face into the crook of Dex’s shoulder to muffle his whimper.

 

“Yeah?” Dex says. His voice is breathless and tight. Nursey knows that voice. Loves that voice. Loves _him_. 

 

Fuck. He needs to tell him. He needs to tell him. 

 

“ _Please_ ,” he says instead, and Dex makes a sound that’s half laugh, half groan, and moves harder. 

 

He’ll tell him, he promises himself, coming with a shudder and a half-muffled cry, feeling Dex stiffen and arch, tomorrow.

 

…

 

“I’m gonna fail this fucking test,” Dex says.

 

Derek glances up from the essay he’s writing about gender fluidity as a recurring theme in Shakespeare’s comedies and frowns at him. “No, you’re not,” he says. “You’ve been studying your ass off.”

 

Dex shoves his laptop away from him with a sound of disgust. “Doesn’t matter if I study my ass off if I can’t remember shit from my notes,” he says, unhappily. 

 

Nursey presses his lips together. “This is your history class?” 

 

“My obligatory fucking humanities requirement, you mean?” Dex scowls. “Yeah.”

 

“Rewrite your notes by hand,” Nursey says. “They’ve done studies. You’ll remember them better. You’ve got three more days til your test, right?” Dex nods, looking uncertain. “So you have time. I’ll help, we can go over them together a couple times. Cover all those learning style bases, y’know?”

 

Surprise flickers over Dex’s features. “Seriously?”

 

Nursey shrugs, a little confused. “Yeah?”

 

“I...thanks, man.”

 

He still looks kind of surprised, and Nursey narrows his eyes. “Why would I not want to help you out with this?” He’s like, fifty percent sure that helping his bro study still falls under _casual_. That it’s still firmly in the _friends_ category of their _friends-with-benefits_ arrangement.

 

“No, I mean--yeah, of course.” Dex gives him a small grin, pushing a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I’m just--It’s stressing me out.” He rubs his eyes, then nods at Nursey’s computer, open on his lap where Nursey’s sitting up against Dex’s headboard. “How’s your thing going?”

 

Nursey looks at his screen. He has about two and a half pages of what needs to be a ten page paper. Not because he doesn’t like his subject, but because the words just aren’t coming. He’s had a tension headache thrumming around his temples for about half an hour. “Eh,” he says. “It’s like…” 

 

He makes a vague gesture that he hopes encompasses _blah_ , and Dex snorts. “Yeah.” He glances at his phone to check the time. “Shit, it got late.”

 

Nursey shoots a glance at the corner of his screen and winces. It’s after midnight, and they have a six-thirty practice in the morning. “Fuck,” he says. He looks out the window, and winces again. It’s raining. He super doesn’t want to go out there.

 

That’s how it works, though. He saves his document and closes his laptop. “You seen my shoes?”

 

Dex tilts his desk chair back. “By the door,” he says. There’s a note in his voice Nursey can’t place.

 

“Cool.” Nursey climbs off the bed, picking up his bag and putting his laptop and books into it. He starts to reach for one of his sneakers, but Dex clears his throat behind him.

 

“Hey. Uh--” Nursey turns to find Dex looking at him, his expression unreadable. “You could stay, y’know. If you want.”

 

Nursey blinks. They don’t do that. They’ve never done that. Something small and uncertain and fluttering twitches to life in Nursey’s belly, and he swallows. “What?”

 

Dex shrugs. “I mean--it’s raining, and it’s late, and we’ve gotta be up in like six hours anyway, so just--You might as well? If you wanted to?”

 

“I,” Nursey says, because he doesn’t know what’s being offered here, really, and part of his head is screaming _leave leave leave_ , because this _is_ crossing a line, or at least blurring one. 

 

But. _But_.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, alright, chill. Thanks, man.” He puts down his bag.

 

Dex gives him a lazy grin and rolls to his feet. 

 

They walk down to the bathroom together, Dex carrying his toiletry caddy and Nursey tagging along. They wash their faces side-by-side like they do in the locker room. Dex brushes his teeth and Nursey steals some of his mouthwash. Nursey whistles all of _happy birthday_ while Dex washes his hands after he pees, and Dex flicks soapy water at his face. 

 

“Gonna lend me some jammies?” Nursey asks as they head back to Dex’s room.

 

Dex traces his eyes along Nursey’s body, and then grins. “No.”

 

Despite the faint headache still clinging to his temples and his lingering stress about his paper, Nursey hears his laugh ring through the hallway.

 

Door closed behind them, they strip down to boxers, and Dex flips the overhead lights, setting the alarm on his phone. “You want wall side or room side?” he asks.

 

Nursey shrugs. “Whatever you want,” he says. Which isn’t really true, he’ll probably be a little claustrophobic if he’s pinned between Dex and the wall, but--

 

“You’re so full of it,” Dex says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take the wall, c’mon.” He climbs into bed and pulls Nursey after him by his wrist. “Get the lamp?”

 

Reaching behind him, Nursey feels around on Dex’s desk until he finds the switch of the lamp. He turns it off, and the room plunges into darkness. It’s a little weird to be fumbling around Dex’s desk for something other than lube or a condom. 

 

“Good,” Dex mumbles. He shifts around. “Lift your head up.” Nursey does, and Dex slips his armunder his neck. “Alright.” 

 

They’re almost nose-to-nose, pressed close in the small bed, both on their sides. The space between them is small. It strikes Nursey as strangely intimate, and he shivers. Dex runs the fingers of his free hand along the bare skin of Nursey’s arm. “You cold?”

 

“Nah,” Nursey murmurs.

 

“You sure?” There’s a teasing note in Dex’s voice. His hand slips lower, down to Nursey’s hip. “I could warm you up, if you are.”

 

Nursey laughs softly. “Fucking corny, Poindexter,” he says. 

 

“That a yes?” 

 

Nursey licks his bottom lip. It’s tempting, it is, but his head still hurts, and he’s tired and a little overwhelmed by what’s happening right now, the newness and blurriness of it. He shakes his head, then remembers it’s dark.

 

“Not tonight,” he says. “Got a headache, I’m just--I’m not really feeling it. Sorry.” And then, because he’s still a damn gentleman, “You want me to, though?” 

 

He starts to slide a hand over the waistband of Dex’s boxers, but Dex catches his wrist. “Hey, no,” he says. Gently, voice tinged with concern. “Course not, not if you’re feeling shitty.”

 

Nursey hesitates. “It’s just a headache.”

 

“Dude, I’m not gonna die if we fall asleep without you giving me an orgasm,” Dex says. Exasperation, touched with amusement. “C’mere.” He uses his grip on Nursey’s wrist to tug him in, rolling onto his back as he goes. Nursey lets himself be pulled, lets Dex situate them until he’s half-sprawled across Dex’s chest, one of Dex’s hands stroking along his back, the fingertips of the other running along his temple.

 

Nursey closes his eyes. “’s nice,” he mumbles.

 

“Thought it might help your headache.” 

 

Nursey hums softly in appreciation, and then lifts his face up to kiss him. 

 

He doesn’t realize until Dex makes a sort of startled sound into his mouth that they’ve never really kissed outside of sex or a heavy makeout before. He almost pulls away, but then Dex curls a hand around the back of his neck to hold him in place, a soft, pleased noise lost between their lips. 

 

They kiss for a few minutes, deep and lazy, and then Dex pulls gently away. “I know I _said_ I wasn’t gonna die,” he says, his tone somewhere between deadpan and aroused, tinged with sleepiness around the edges. “But like. We don’t have to test that theory.”

 

It’s such a _Dex_ thing to say that Nursey laughs. “Sorry.”

 

“I bet,” Dex says. He pulls Nursey’s head back down to his chest. “Go to sleep.”

 

“Yeah.” Nursey hesitates, listening to Dex’s heart beat against his ear. It’s in time with his own, even and steady. 

 

“Dex,” he says quietly.

 

Dex yawns, his hand tracing lazy circles over Nursey’s back. “Yeah?”

 

Nursey takes a breath. Tries to find the right words. Tries.

 

“Nursey?”

 

He breathes out. “It’s nothing,” he says. He puts a hand over Dex’s heart, feels the warmth of his skin. “Never mind.”

 

There’s a pause. “Alright,” Dex says. He tightens his arm a little more around Nursey’s shoulders. “G’night.”

 

“Night.”

 

He closes his eyes.

 

He’ll tell him, he promises himself, listening to the sound of Dex’s soft, even breathing in the dark.

 

Tomorrow.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Because Derek Nurse is exactly the kind of romantic emo fuck who would fall in love with his FWB and then angst about it instead of having a conversation even if said FWB was tossing down all sorts of Signals that those Unrequited Feels are in fact Not Unrequited. 
> 
> (Alternatively, I couldn't decide between writing smut or angst so I wrote BOTH, you're welcome.)
> 
> For more of this, hit me up on tumblr: @geniusorinsanity


End file.
